I'll Gravitate Towards You, I Will Hate You
by Vita Fidens
Summary: Sequel to "There's No Medicine That Can Fix That Mind." Dean Ambrose has decided that the consequences for Molly Parker will be severe. Blissfully unaware of this, Molly and Wade Barrett continue to grow closer. Rated M: Violence and potentially upsetting sex. You have been warned.
1. Chapter 1

Dean Ambrose arrived at Wade Barrett's house the following morning with a bruised throat and a puffy upper lip, as well an eye that had surprisingly swollen and blackened during the night.

He'd slept little, as he was becoming accustomed to doing.

At some point around three in the morning, his rage had faded to anger. Unfortunately, most of the items in his room had suffered the results of that emotion and would need to be replaced.

That was at the bottom of his list of worries.

At the top was re-establishing his dominance with little Miss Molly Parker. She had been afraid of him not too long ago, and in his careless pursuit of bedding her he'd lost that edge.

"What the hell happened to you?" An Irish brogue broke into his thoughts.

He smiled easily. "Had a little altercation," he replied, walking slowly towards Sheamus. Molly was working in the same room, her back slightly turned from them – but he could see the interest on her face.

"What's the other bloke looking like this morning?" Sheamus asked, clapping him on the back heartily.

Ambrose swallowed down his annoyance at the friendly nature the other man was displaying. He was uncommonly cheerful this morning, and he suspected that Molly had something to do with that. "Unfortunately, not nearly as bad as this. Not yet, anyway."

He could see Molly's back stiffen. Good.

The smile on Sheamus' face dropped off, but only slightly. "Just try not to be too hard on the man," he warned. "Anybody that could get the drop on you and walk away the better party is no one to be trifled with."

"It was luck, pure and simple," Ambrose replied. "I wasn't prepared." He paused and said his next words very clearly. "I will be next time."

Molly's head turned very slightly towards him, and he turned to look at her in kind. "Good morning, Miss Molly," he called. "I didn't see you there at first, my _darling_," he snarled the last word, seeing Sheamus' expression change to one of suspicion. Not that it worried him at all; the Irishman had an intelligence quota on par with a box of potatoes.

"Mr. Ambrose," she replied reluctantly, nodding before making her way out of the room. He resisted the urge to follow, but only barely.

There was other business to attend to this morning. Miss Molly would, unfortunately, have to wait.


	2. Chapter 2

Molly had been dreading today long before the unpleasant business with Mr. Ambrose.

It was the last day before the esteemed guest – whom she still knew nothing about – was to arrive. It would have been a miserable day even without the added fear and uncertainty surrounding the lunatic in her parlor.

She had to stuff down a smile at the thought. She was being ridiculous. It wasn't her parlor; not even close. The rest, however, was spot on.

She had tried to see the humor in her situation since her sleepless night after Mr. Ambrose had left. She had her moments, but mostly she found herself struck by paralyzing fear.

First, that the man had been so bold – to enter her room, to violate her while she was sleeping…it was a terrifying notion.

Second, she had hated the way she felt after being physically violent. She knew that it was merely self-defense, and that she had done what was necessary to protect herself. Still, she hadn't enjoyed the experience.

Third…third. She mentally emitted a large sigh. The third horrific thought was that if he hadn't attempted to force her into reciprocity, she would have let him continue on with what he was doing.

She couldn't say why that was, precisely, other than the fact that it had physically felt wonderful. Mentally, at the time, she was a jumbled mess – she loathed the man, but found that she enjoyed the things he was capable of doing to her.

How could that be possible? She'd been turning the thoughts over in her head all night. She'd been taught that love was a key component of desire, but several instances – including Mr. Barrett's plight with his ghastly wife – were causing her to re-think this notion.

Could she physically desire a man she found otherwise repugnant?

Apparently so.

This was a troubling realization for several reasons. It had shattered her views on the relationship between love and intimacy. And, more importantly…she wasn't sure that she would be so willing to continue fighting him off.

He'd awakened something in her; a desire that she had never before felt. She wanted more of the kind of attention he was giving her. She found herself distracted by it, giving in to wicked thoughts in her few idle moments.

It came to a question of how she should handle this situation.

He had said that if she gave in, he would leave her alone. She could sate her curiosity and her growing appetite. Purity wasn't necessarily a concern of hers; she'd simply never been close enough to another human being to have the opportunity to become impure before.

It wouldn't ruin her chances of marriage, if she truly had any at all. She had heard that there were ways she could avoid carrying his child. Logically, it made sense.

But she still found herself hesitating.

In truth, Mr. Ambrose frightened her deeply. From the first night she'd encountered him, he had made it plain that there was something off in his mind. She couldn't be sure that he would simply want her once, or that he would leave her unharmed after the fact.

This left her in an interesting predicament. She could refuse him and remain unsatisfied, she could give in and possibly be harmed, or she could refuse him, find another willing partner, and still possibly be harmed.

There was no preferable situation. If she had to choose, she was going to continue refusing him. It still might lead to him harming her eventually, but it was the only situation with the least harmful dire consequences outright.

Her mind nervously settled on this course of action, and she continued on with her work.


	3. Chapter 3

Wade Barrett decided, rather uneasily, to keep Mr. Ambrose behind the rest of the men that morning.

He'd called everyone together to briefly go through the match-ups for the next round of fights, which were to take place in two days. Mr. Ambrose would be fighting Alberto del Rio at that time, and Barrett could see the apathy written over his face.

He refused to be embarrassed by the man.

"Have you read any of the scouting material I've given you?" He asked once they were alone, pointedly ignoring his mess of a face.

"Nope," he replied easily, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers across his stomach. "Don't need to."

"I really think you should."

Dean shrugged. "I'll handle him like I always handle unknown opponents. And I'll win."

Wade shook his head. "I think you should reconsider that stance. Especially seeing as someone got the better of you last night." Dean's head snapped up and he glared angrily at Wade. "You're losing your focus, and it's becoming a detriment to your abilities," he stated simply.

Dean glanced away and sniffed angrily, his teeth clenched tightly in his jaw. "You're right," he admitted. "I have lost my focus." He glanced back to Wade and smiled, although it was a tight and fabricated expression. "Your little Miss Molly is to blame," he said bluntly. "I can't stop thinking about her."

The surprise was apparent on Barrett's face, but only for a moment. "You're going to let yourself get distracted by a passing fancy?"

Ambrose shook his head. "It's more than that. Any time another man goes near her, I want to kill him with my bare hands. I can't sleep at night. I can't think clearly. That girl should be _mine_, and it's ruining my entire life that she isn't."

"You hardly know her."

"I know her better than you think," he snapped. "She's the first…the only…woman to have this effect on me. It's maddening." He looked at Barrett and decided to go for broke. "_Please_. Give her to me. She won't be mistreated."

Wade sat in stunned silence for several moments, unable to believe that the closest thing to a declaration of love that Ambrose was capable of had just spilled out of his mouth.

"I can't give another person's life away," he answered. "If Molly chooses you, so be it. I wish you all the happiness in the world. But if she doesn't…." He leaned forward and met Ambrose's eyes directly. "If she doesn't, you will leave her alone. Do you understand me?"

"I'll never be able to leave her alone," he replied. "Do _you_ understand _me_?"

Barrett shook his head. "Truly, I do not. And I doubt that I ever will. There _are_ other women."

Ambrose could feel the logic of his words, even as his mind rebelled against them. _This_ woman was the only one that mattered. He couldn't explain it to himself, much less another man.

Instead, he merely shook his head in agitation. After several moments, he stood and abruptly walked out the door, leaving a stunned Wade Barrett in his wake.


	4. Chapter 4

Wade considered his conversation with Mr. Ambrose quite heavily throughout the rest of the day. He wondered if he should tell Molly that this was more serious than previously thought, and quickly dismissed the idea.

She was already frightened. There was no need for her to become panicked. Ambrose promised he wouldn't mistreat her, and if he did have a scrap of caring for her he would keep his word.

Something still didn't sit right about the situation, and he chewed his lower lip bloody trying to figure it out.

Ambrose had said that he knew Molly more than their casual acquaintance would dictate. Barrett hadn't seen them interact at all, beyond Ambrose's feeble attempts at communicating with her being immediately, albeit politely, shut down.

There was something else at play here, something that was just beyond his reach.

He shook his head impatiently, trying desperately to grasp the thought.

It circled back around to this – he had never before seen Ambrose act this way. True, he had only known the man for the last year of his life. Yet he had always had a casual regard for women, and not just the whores he frequented.

The whores had, in fact, been Barrett's idea. Ambrose had stirred up a decent bit of trouble when he'd arrived and joined up with his team – there wasn't a neighbor's daughter or wife that had kept her skirt down around him for the first month of his residency. It had led to a lot of broken hearts and bones before Wade had intervened.

Why Molly had caught his attention so deeply he couldn't say…and that troubled him. He knew Ambrose well enough to know that he wouldn't stop, and he thought he knew Molly well enough to know that she wouldn't give in.

He could see the disaster ahead bearing down on him, but he was unsure of how he could reasonably stop it.

He thought, again, about sending Molly away and his heart clenched painfully. His only source of comfort would be gone, and Ambrose would never forgive him. Truthfully, he was unsure if even that would stop his pursuit. Mr. Ambrose could be very…determined…when denied something he wanted.

"Fucking hell," he muttered angrily. He'd been visited by nothing but trouble since Ambrose had brought that girl here. If she wasn't…if he didn't….

He shoved those thoughts away quickly. Molly wasn't the trouble; Ambrose was, and it was important to remember that.

He couldn't take away her fresh start, her new life, to appease one highly unstable man. He knew that he should, but he simply could not bring himself to that action.

Part of it was selfish, but another part was entirely selfless. It mattered to him that she had a good life, no matter where she might live it. The selfish part was that he wanted her to live it in his presence.

She'd done what his wife had failed to do for many years, he realized. In only a few short weeks, she had made his house their home.


	5. Chapter 5

The situation with Ambrose gnawed at him all day. Finally, once things had settled for the evening – in truth, once his wife had stopped barking orders and retired to her bedroom with a glass of sherry – he elected to speak with Molly about it.

She looked exhausted as she trudged into his office, barely able to keep her eyes open, and he thought that he'd have a private word with his darling wife later about ensuring her health and well-being.

He gestured her to the sofa and poured them both a stiff drink. They were going to need it.

She accepted it warily, her eyes already asking what fresh Hell was about to fall on her head.

He curled one side of his lip up in an attempt to ease her mind, but knew that it wouldn't be sufficient. He elected, instead, to dive right in to the matter at hand.

"Mr. Ambrose," he said simply, watching her eyes fill with dread…but no surprise.

"What now?" She asked, taking her first drink. It was a substantial one.

"How well does he know you?"

Molly shifted in her seat uncomfortably, her thoughts immediately turning towards the pilfered diary. "Not as well as he thinks."

Mr. Barrett smiled. "He seems to believe otherwise, and that seems to be driving very…powerful emotions towards you." He paused, noticing how defeated she looked.

"I won't interject my personal opinion again – unless you ask, of course," he continued, "but I promise you that any decision you make will be supported entirely."

She shook her head and fell silent for several moments before leaning back and staring at the ceiling. "Sometimes I think…." She trailed off momentarily. He kept silent, sensing that whatever she was going to say was difficult for her.

"Sometimes I think I should just let him have me," she finally said. "It would stop this madness."

He glanced down, his suspicions confirmed. There was, indeed, more that was happening behind the scenes than he had been aware of.

"Has he hurt you?"

"No. That's the problem."

His eyebrows knit together in confusion, and she glanced at him blushing before looking away again immediately.

He felt heat rise to his own cheeks, his heart racing in his chest. "Were you forced?" He asked, his voice coming out in a low growl.

"I…it's hard to explain," she said after a moment. "He hasn't…we haven't…." She took a hearty swallow of her drink and stood immediately to pour herself another.

"How can I physically want someone I abhor?" She finally made up her mind to ask bluntly, keeping her back turned towards him. "It doesn't make sense to me that I can loathe the man but desire his touch."

He felt a small aching stab in his chest and promptly ignored it. "It's an interesting question," he replied slowly, rolling his own glass between his long fingers. "Am I correct in assuming that, prior to your interactions with Mr. Ambrose, you hadn't experienced anything like…that?" He was stumbling like a fool over his words, and he hated the idea of invading her privacy in such a way.

"You would be correct, yes," she replied, turning back and making her way towards him again. He pointedly ignored the stiffness in her tone, the bright red heat on her face.

"Then I don't believe you necessarily want the man as much as the continued experience. He made a strong connection between himself and…. Perhaps it's not desire so much as a mental association."

He could almost feel the relief rolling off of her, and he was grateful for that. His mood, however, had darkened considerably.

He'd told Ambrose to stay away. He'd told him to let it go.

And, as always, Ambrose had ignored him and gone his own way. He'd violated her, pure and simple – whether Molly was confused about that fact or not, Wade was entirely sure that was how it had occurred.

"You're upset with me," Molly said flatly, breaking into his thoughts.

"No," he replied immediately, shaking his head and reaching for her hand. "Never, love. I'm upset with Mr. Ambrose. He took advantage of you."

She fell into miserable silence, regretting the trouble this would cause already. She had a mental image of her tongue in a jar, and quickly shoved it away. She'd said nothing. It wasn't her fault that Mr. Barrett was intelligent enough to work it out.

His hand gave hers a warm squeeze. "Molly," he said gently. "Look at me."

She glanced up into his gray eyes, and he managed a small smile. "You've done nothing wrong."

She nodded, but felt her own eyes filling with tears. She tried to push them away, but embarrassingly they came anyway.

She hadn't realized just how much she'd needed to hear that she hadn't been the one encouraging Mr. Ambrose's behavior.

Mr. Barrett pulled her down onto his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her.


	6. Chapter 6

"Isn't this _adorable_," a harsh voice woke him the next morning.

Wade opened his eyes, squinting against the unforgivingly brilliant sunlight, to see his wife standing before him with her arms crossed over her chest.

He felt weight on him and glanced down to see that Molly was still wrapped tightly around his chest, one hand resting close to his heart. Awkwardly enough, her other hand had dropped during the night and rested on his thigh, quite close to an erection that was substantial enough to threaten bursting through his pants.

As gently as he could, he dislodged himself from her grip and lightly placed her entirely onto the sofa before turning back to his wife.

She glanced down at his crotch, a smirk on her face. "Let me guess; she didn't know what to do with that," she snapped.

"Out," he growled. "Now."

She raised her eyebrows. "This is _my_ home, Mr. Barrett, and I will go where I please."

He stepped towards her and roughly grabbed her arm, dragging her out the door. She attempted to protest, but he clamped a hand over her mouth.

"If you won't give me any damned human companionship or comfort, I'll seek it out elsewhere," he said once they were clear of the room and the door shut behind them. "She's a nice kid, and I have a great deal of affection for her."

"Obviously," his wife replied dryly, glancing down again.

He rolled his eyes. "Men are aroused in the morning regardless of their sleeping circumstances. _You_ should know that."

She went still. "What are you implying?"

"I imply nothing. I'm saying it outright. Do you really think I'm not aware of your nighttime company? Say what you will about me, but at least I've kept to my vows." He stepped towards her and grabbed her arms roughly. "You've already ruined so much of my life. Don't you _dare_ think about taking away the one true friend I've managed to find in this hell you've put me in."

She opened her mouth and closed it in rapid succession, blinking in surprise. Finally, miraculously, she simply nodded instead of saying another word, and he let her go.

She rushed away immediately, and he was both relieved and concerned. When Abigail felt she'd been bested, she usually returned with a fierceness that was unmatched.

Unfortunately, he feared that this was not the end of the situation.

Closing his eyes against the impending headache, he elected to simply return to his study, return to the sofa, and continue his peaceful slumber with Molly. He didn't give a damn how it looked; it was the best sleep he'd had in weeks.

She was still asleep when he returned, her body curled tightly and an expression of deep peace on her face. He smiled.

Carefully, he contorted himself back into place so that she was once again resting on his chest. She gave a soft, contented moan and snuggled her face against his shirt. His heart picked up its pace immediately, and he gently stroked a hand down her back in response.

"Should go to bed," she murmured softly, attempting to sit up.

"You're fine where you are, love," he replied, gently pushing her back.

"Mmm," she replied, her voice already full of sleep as she re-adjusted herself and pitched back into what he hoped were pleasant dreams.

He dozed on and off, waking finally when she sat up abruptly.

"I'm so sorry," she said, her eyes wide.

He managed a gentle smile, quickly contorting his lap so that she couldn't see his arousal. "Don't be," he replied, lightly taking her hand. "Best sleep I've had in ages."

She smiled in return. "Me too," she admitted.

He suddenly felt his smile fade, and could see the resulting confusion in her eyes. He moved closer to her and put both hands on her shoulders, lightly stroking the sides of her neck. Cautiously, he brought his thumb up and stroked it over her cheek before moving it to trace over the line of her lips.

She didn't pull away. Her lips parted slightly and he could feel her heart beating with increasing speed.

"Molly," he said tenderly, but his voice sounded far away to his own ears.

"Y-yes?"

"Would you be offended if I kissed you?"

His heart was pounding for the few seconds it took her to answer.

"No."

He leaned forward slowly, closing his eyes only a split second before their lips were going to touch.

It was then, of course, that his door flew open and the chattering crowd of men arrived for the day.


	7. Chapter 7

Molly rushed out of the room quickly, taking care to avoid the eyes of Mr. Ambrose on her way out.

Thankfully, it seemed that no one had seen herself and Mr. Barrett in their compromising position – Mr. McIntyre had been at the head of the group and had been looking back, discussing something with Mr. O'Shaughnessy.

Mr. Barrett had looked annoyed at the intrusion and had then told her that she could take the day and get some sleep before their guest arrived this evening. She had accepted gratefully and hurried back to her room, where she now sat in a dazed silence on her bed.

She had told Mr. Barrett about her encounters with Mr. Ambrose. Not in great detail, certainly, but she had made him aware of the situation. She had fallen asleep, comforted by being wrapped in his arms.

Then he had wanted to kiss her. And she had wanted him to do so.

She moved between confusion and frustration.

Mr. Barrett was married. Unhappily, yes, but still legally bound to another. Neither of them should have pursued this avenue. And it puzzled her that he would want to do so after hearing that Mr. Ambrose had already been intimate with her.

Still, she found that when his lips had been so close to hers that these other circumstances simply didn't matter.

She was forced to face the truth. Mr. Barrett wasn't purely her friend. When he touched her, she felt her stomach and heart flutter with an emotion that was anything but platonic. She had tried to tell herself that she was mistaking his kindness for something more, but after this morning she knew that to be untrue.

Resting her weary head in her hands, she couldn't help but understand that the reason she'd avoided this realization was because it hurt.

He was a good man, probably the best one she had encountered in her short life, and there was simply no way that she could be with him.

He was too stupidly noble to leave his wife, and she refused to be his mistress.

So, then. That was that.

Her shoulders slumped and a few tears rolled out of her eyes.

"No sense, Molly girl," she murmured to herself, wiping her cheeks. "No sense in sadness. You'll find another man who is just as lovely and much more available."

She didn't believe any of those words, but saying them out loud seemed to help.

Feeling exhaustion creep up on her, she elected to bathe before attempting a few hours of sleep.

The warm water soothed her body slightly, although it did not ease her troubled, pained thoughts. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Mr. Barrett leaning towards her. The knowledge that she could never allow him to be that close again created a hollow ache in her chest.

Finally, with little hope for restful sleep, she turned off the flowing water and reached her hand out of the curtain for the towel she'd hung on the hook.

Her hand patted along the wall for several minutes, her brows folding together in confusion as she continued to touch wall and not towel.

Shaking her head at her absent-mindedness, she pulled the curtain back completely and jumped back abruptly, attempting to cover herself with her hands.

"Towel?" Mr. Ambrose asked innocently, holding the one she'd brought in out to her.


	8. Chapter 8

"Wh-Wh-Wh…" She stammered, and Ambrose rolled his eyes in annoyance. It was a good thing he didn't require intelligence in a woman.

He offered her his hand, and when she didn't take it he put his arms under her elbows and bodily removed her from the shower.

Pausing for a moment to admire her gleaming, naked flesh, he wrapped the towel around her. "Miss Molly," he said, grinning. "We have a matter to discuss."

She closed her eyes and he could see the fear change her body. He waited patiently until she opened them again.

"What is it, Mr. Ambrose?" She asked, clutching the towel around her more tightly.

His smile took on a sinister quality as he pointed wordlessly to his eye.

She hesitated. "I'm sorry for that," she said at last, surprising him. "You startled me that night. I was defending myself the best way I knew how."

He took a moment to consider her words. "Fair enough, my love."

She looked suspicious. He tried to keep his smile as normal as he could. "Just give me a kiss, and all will be forgiven."

Oh, she didn't like that idea. It was written all over her face. He maintained a placid expression, waiting to see which course she would take.

Leaning forward, she lightly placed her lips against his before pulling back nearly immediately.

"Oh Molly," he said, shaking his head. "Darling, you know that wasn't good enough."

He stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her waist, the other hand gripping her gently by the hair. With no hesitation, he bent and kissed her intensely, parting her lips with his tongue. He was surprised when she attempted to kiss him back, her motions fumbling and uneducated. It was, in a way, endearing.

He pulled away after several seconds, smiling, and rested his forehead against hers. "Sweetheart," he murmured gently, "if you really thought that was all I was going to need, you are one stupid bitch."

Before she could react, he slammed her head into the tiled wall. With a great measure of satisfaction, he watched her crumple in his arms.


	9. Chapter 9

He was waiting when she finally came to again, standing calmly beside her bed. He hadn't felt this peaceful in a very long time.

She glanced up at him, her fear apparent in her eyes. He smiled toothily.

"Molly," he sighed, "Molly, Molly, Molly." He knelt beside her and lightly ran his fingers over her breast and down her abdomen. "I thought quite a bit about how to pay you back. I can't mark up that pretty face of yours, or people would be suspicious. And the last thing I want is for anyone to know about the fun we're having."

She rattled her wrists against the ropes that pinned her arms to the headboard, her eyes growing wider. "I couldn't risk you running away from me again," he explained. "That was very unfortunate the other evening."

He continued stroking his hands over her, occasionally lightly pinching the nipples on each of her breasts. "And as far as your mouth, well, I couldn't have you screaming. My hands and…other body parts…I intend to be otherwise occupied. You understand, I hope."

He watched two large tears spill out of her eyes and onto the blue swatch of cloth he'd tied over her mouth and knotted at the back of her head.

"Shall we begin, my love?" He asked, staring at the pink nipples that had become hard with his stroking. "We have such a limited time together today."

He stood and unbuckled his belt, dropping his trousers and stepping out of them before joining her on the bed, pulling her thighs apart roughly to kneel between them.

He bent and took her right nipple into his mouth, sucking and teasing it with his tongue for several moments before switching to the left. His fingers slid between her thighs, where he could feel her getting warmer and wetter the more he toyed with her nipples.

Finally, he rested his chin directly in between her breasts and stared at her face. Her eyes were closed. "Molly, look at me," he commanded.

She opened her eyes reluctantly. "You will never lay a hand on me like that again. Do you understand?"

She nodded quickly.

"Do you really?" He asked, his eyes narrowing and his head tilting. "I don't believe you do."

She again nodded.

He moved up her body to lie beside her, his fingers stopping and pulling away. She looked relieved, an expression that wouldn't last long on her face.

"You're a lying bitch," he snarled directly in her face, reaching one hand out to wrap around her throat and the other to slap her breasts painfully, twisting and tweaking her nipples for good measure.

When she was close to fainting again from the lack of oxygen, he pulled his hand away. She was going to stay awake for all of this.

Bending his head, he bit into her breasts brutally, relishing the muffled screams that came from beneath her gag, her body stiffening in pain beside him.

He stopped just as quickly as he had started. Standing, he returned to his trousers to retrieve a small knife from his pocket. He clicked it open, pleased by the renewed fear in her face.

He straddled her chest, clicking the knife open and closed several times while she watched. "I'm going to remove this," he said, gesturing towards the gag. "I have a nice use in mind for that mouth of yours. If you scream, or if you bite – I'll cut your throat and fuck the hole I leave in your neck. Am I clear?"

She started sobbing, and he slapped her across the face. "Focus, for fuck's sake," he snarled. "Do you understand me?"

She nodded, and after several seconds he reached behind her and pulled the knot free, allowing the fabric to fall to the side.

She didn't scream. It might have been the first intelligent thing she'd done today as far as he was concerned.

"Have you ever sucked a man's dick?" He asked bluntly. She shook her head. "Have you even seen a dick before?" She shook her head again, and he grinned. What an unexpected treat – he would be taking her virginity in multiple ways today.

He stood and pulled his shorts off. "Look at me." She glanced over, keeping her eyes resolutely above his waist. He stepped forward and put his erection directly in front of her nose. "Look," he repeated.

She looked for several seconds before he grew impatient. "Open your mouth."

Her lips parted slightly. "Wider." She complied hesitatingly. "Stick out your tongue." Once she had done that, he began to lightly run the underside of his cock over her tongue, from tip to base. He watched her expression while he did it, amused at the grim determination she had to survive this.

He pulled away and slapped her cheek with his dick a few times before simply shoving it in her mouth. "Suck," was the only instruction he gave before proceeding to thrust into her mouth, making sure to go deeper each time.

He could feel her choking on him, attempting to maintain suction at the same time. Maybe she was learning who ran things around here after all.

It wouldn't save her today, but it was a comfort to know that these little lessons might make the future easier for both of them.

Finally, he pulled away and looked down at her. Her face was screwed up in concentration, attempting to keep the flood of tears back.

"You did well, sweetheart," he murmured, bending and kissing her forehead before moving down to kneel between her thighs. "You did so well, in fact, that I'm going to give you a choice."

She looked at him warily as he began rubbing his wet, hard dick against her clit.

"Do you want me to take your maidenhead?"

"No," she replied immediately.

He tried to keep the smile from his face and failed. "Are you sure?" He asked, pushing part of the way inside of her. It took all his resolve to not continue forward when her walls squeezed him tightly.

"Yes."

With a false sigh of reluctance, he pulled out of her. "Put your legs on my shoulders."

She did so with hesitation, and he reached down to gently part her buttocks. Pressing his erection against the rough bunch of muscles, he grinned wickedly at her.

"Just remember," he grunted, preparing to push forward, "I gave you a choice."


	10. Chapter 10

It seemed to last forever.

The pain was unbearable, and Mr. Ambrose slapped her several times in the face before simply replacing the gag. That, at least, allowed her to scream.

After a fashion, she had felt him growing larger inside of her and his breath came out in harsh, ragged pants. She had felt a new stickiness as he pulled out of her for the last time and an uncomfortable sensation of fluid running out of her.

He had knelt there for several minutes, his chest moving rapidly as he tried to catch his breath. Finally, he stood and went for the towel that had been abandoned at the start of this encounter. She watched in horror as he wiped blood – her blood – off of his now-flaccid penis and abdomen.

He looked at her in disgust before he threw the towel on the bed beside her. Gripping the knife he'd had before, he quickly cut the rope that bound her hands.

"Clean yourself up, you filthy slut," he snarled. Numbly, she went about following his instructions, horrified at the amount of bright red blood there seemed to be.

He watched her as he dressed, enjoying the way her hands shook.

When he was done, he stepped towards her and gripped her by the hair, pulling her head back. Bending down, he kissed her roughly.

"I'll see you soon, sweetheart. Get some rest. We have a busy night ahead of us."


	11. Sequel

Thanks for reading! The next part is up and is entitled "There is No Better Part of Me, You'll See." I hope you enjoy it!


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